Carriage Ride
by HLJ137
Summary: After Louisa's accident, Anne and Frederick share a carriage back to Uppercross. Being alone together for the first time in over eight years, they are each forced to contemplate their feelings for the other. (One-shot probably)


Anne was exceedingly tired.

It seemed that she had hardly rested since the accident. It had fallen to her to direct and manage everyone in the care of Louisa. Everyone had looked to her for guidance, help, and support, which had kept her busy. Anne did not mind the duties; in fact she had hardly noticed how much she had been doing. It is peculiar how one never notices how tired one is until the work is done, and only then does exhaustion set in. Anne had not noticed how fatigued she was while she had kept herself busy. It was not until she was left with nothing to do but sit in the carriage and wait that the desire for rest overcame her.

When the initial panic of the accident had settled, a discussion had begun on how best to return Henrietta to her parents. It had been decided that Anne and Frederick would accompany her back to Uppercross, so the three of them had set off on the journey.

When the group approached their carriage, Henrietta had insisted that she needed the front seat. Unwilling to argue with or upset her, Anne and Frederick had willingly ceded the front to Henrietta. After all, it was a small carriage, as they had set off in haste and had no time to call a larger one. Besides, Henrietta had suffered more than the either Anne or Frederick. She needed the space, and her companions were gracious enough to give it to her without a fuss.

Anne and Frederick were therefore left no choice but to settle for the back seat. They climbed in the back of the carriage together, their shoulders bumping as they squeezed into the small space. The ride began rather awkward and stiff. They were essentially alone, after all, a situation in which they had not found themselves since his return. Neither Anne nor Frederick had known what to say, so neither said anything. They rode on in silence with only their thoughts for company.

Occassionally Anne had been aware of Frederick's eyes on her. She knew he was watching her throughout the journey. Perhaps he was waiting for her to break the tension, but Anne had yet to come up with any suitable thing to say. All she could do was try to keep her features as impassive as possible so he could not read the growing exhaustion on her face.

A few times, when Anne noticed that Frederick had turned his attention away from her and was instead looking out the window, Anne had dared to steal a glance at him as well. His face was etched with concern and guilt. Anne could tell he was upset. The accident had shaken him, and she knew him well enough to suspect he was blaming himself. Anne wished to comfort him, to tell him it was not his fault and that he could not have done anything to prevent it, but she could not bring herself to voice these thoughts. It was not her place to comfort him. Not anymore.

Anne eventually gave up on searching for appropriate words and let her fatigue have free reign.

And now, as the sun approached the horizon, Anne was too tired to care about anything other than rest. She fought to keep her eyes open, but it was no use. Resistance was futile. Anne could feel herself nodding off no matter how hard she tried to fight it.

As tired and worn out as she was, Anne had been right about one thing: Frederick was watching her. He tried to be discreet enough to where she would not notice, but he did not know that Anne was acutely aware of everything he did.

Frederick was watching her because he was concerned about her. He worried that she had over-exerted herself, that she had done too much without regard for herself. In times of crisis, it seemed everyone turned to Anne and expected her to handle everything and take care of everyone. She did all this without ever complaining, yet it seemed no one ever noticed just how much she did for everyone else.

Frederick noticed.

He noticed, and he worried about her. He may not have voiced it, or indeed have been aware of it himself, but Frederick was very concerned with Anne's welfare. After all, if he did not care for her, who would? Anne was always busy taking care of everyone else without regard to her own welfare, and no one else cared enough to make sure she was okay.

Frederick cared.

Until this accident, however, Frederick had not realized how _much_ he cared.

Now, as he watched her eyes slowly close and she succumbed to the rest she so clearly needed, Frederick's worry subsided somewhat. He hoped she was able to rest well in the carriage. He was intensely aware of how her shoulder would brush his when they hit a bump in the road, and he wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms and hold her while she slept. Anne needed someone to be there for her, and Frederick wished he could be that person. But he could not be. Not anymore.

All he could do was watch. He watched Anne's eyes slowly close until she could no longer open them. He watched as her head bobbed until her chin fell to her chest and her breathing slowed. She was asleep. Frederick smiled slightly and turned his attention back out the window. _Rest well, Anne,_ he thought, _you deserve it_.

Soon, however, Frederick became aware of a slight pressure on his shoulder. He turned his head to find that Anne's was now resting on his shoulder. As her head was only slightly above his shoulder to begin with, Anne probably was not even conscious of the slight motion that had brought her head down to its current resting place.

Frederick stilled. He was unsure of what to do. He knew he should politely sit her back up, but he was reluctant to wake her. She dearly needed the rest. Besides, a small part of Frederick, which he was unwilling to indulge for long, was secretly pleased to share such an intimate moment with Anne, although she was unaware of it. He was unable to resist a smile as he observed the content and peaceful expression on her face. Given the circumstances, Frederick decided not to disturb her and let her sleep the rest of the way.

Too soon, however, the carriage slowed. Frederick realized they were approaching Uppercross. He needed to wake Anne, but he did not want to startle her. He softly whispered her name: "Miss Elliot." Anne did not stir, so he repeated her name a bit louder. She still did not wake up. Frederick sighed and jostled his shoulder a bit, whispering "Anne." This time Anne awoke. She picked her head up and blinked at him sleepily. He said, "we are here."

Anne, still half asleep, smiled at him. Frederick stared at her for a second, undire of what to say or do. He was about to say something, however, when Henrietta called to them from the front seat, her voice breaking the moment.

The sound of Henrietta's voice seemed to wake Anne entirely. When she became aware of when and where she was, her cheeks turned red and she averted her gaze from Frederick's. She mumbled a reply to Henrietta and clambered out of the carriage without looking back at him. Frederick sighed and got out himself, wishing he could have prolonged that moment and enjoyed Anne's sleepy smile for just a few seconds longer.

Once everyone was out of the carriage, there was business to be done at Uppercross, and before long Frederick had to ride back to Lyme to check on Louisa. As such, he did not get a chance to talk to or even see Anne before he had to leave. Through his whole ride back, however, the small, tired smile Anne had given him remained front and center in his mind.


End file.
